


In Darkness

by loves_books



Category: A-Team (2010), A-Team - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-22 00:50:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loves_books/pseuds/loves_books
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a mission gone wrong, Face suffers a panic attack which he tries to hide from his team. Murdock recognises the signs and tries to help him calm down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Darkness

Murdock spots immediately the moment when Face starts to have a problem. It isn’t anything obvious at first, just something in his body language; a tension that wasn’t there before, as relaxed as they all were around their campfire, back in base at last after a long and complicated mission. But Murdock is always hyper aware of Face. Even in the warm firelight, his best friend pales visibly and, eyes fixed on something just outside their little circle of light, he stutters out some nonsense about having to check on something, or needing to do something… 

Then he just takes off, stumbling over his own feet. That in itself should ring alarm bells with the whole team – Face is never less than graceful, always sure of his footing, even when ridiculously drunk – but BA is still pretty stoned on painkillers after having 20 stitches in various places across his back, and Murdock is fairly sure Hannibal has actually been asleep for at least the last half hour, although their colonel still grunts when one of them says his name.

Sighing, the pilot puts down his marshmallow sticks – he’s spent most of the night sculpting a helicopter in the fluffy stuff, but the rotors keep melting off, and he’s not quite the optimum distance from the fire – and climbs carefully but quickly to his feet. His ankle is only sprained, not broken, but he isn’t meant to be walking around on it too much. Just that afternoon Face had threatened to tie him to the chair unless he sat still. That had put several thoughts into his head that he had spent a long time pushing carefully back down again, reminding himself “Best friend”.

Movement at the edge of the light catches Murdock’s attention for a moment, and suddenly he is certain what has spooked his best friend so badly. Hurrying more now, he heads away from the fire and towards the team’s tent, through the darkened camp, and finds that Face hadn’t quite made it that far. The conman has fallen to his knees in the doorway of the tent, breathing too loud and too fast, one hand clutching the tent frame while the other clutches at his chest.

“Facey!” Murdock drops into a crouch beside his friend, one hand reaching instantly to rub soothing circles between strong shoulders. Face’s back is heaving, straining as his breathing, if anything, speeds up even more. “Easy, buddy, it’s only me. I got you, Face. What’s wrong?”

Movement close by startles them both, only another soldier passing through, although Face flinches like he’s been shot, and Murdock knows he needs to get the other man inside. His friend wouldn’t want to be seen like this; Murdock knows how important image is to their conman. “Come on, Facey, let’s get you up,” he murmurs, slipping an arm beneath his friend’s and trying to tug him to his feet. Face has a few inches and more than a few pounds on him, and with his weakened ankle Murdock isn’t going to be able to carry him inside.

But Face doesn’t seem to have heard him, and he isn’t responding to Murdock’s gentle encouragements. Eyes squeezed tightly shut, the other man is breathing fast as if he has just run a marathon. Even in the dim light Murdock can see the pulse hammering away in his friend’s neck, can see the sheen of sweat on unnaturally pale skin despite the chill of the desert night.

“Maybe I should get Hannibal,” he thinks aloud, quickly revising that when Face almost doubles over, clutching tighter at his chest. “Or a doctor.”

“No!” The strained, rough gasp surprises him after so long with no response, but Face manages to lift his head and lock eyes with Murdock, eyes that are wild and unfocussed, panic and confusion clear. “Help me in… Please…”

With a clear effort, Face peels his hand from the frame and seizes Murdock’s own in an iron grip, and somehow they stagger up and inside, the tent flaps closing behind them to shut out the night. Murdock thinks he knows what this is, and prays to all his airplane god that he can help his best friend through this.  
_______________________

He can’t breathe, vision dim and heart feeling like it will burst out of his chest. Gods, this is ridiculous; he’s hot and cold all at the same time, shaking and so weak he can’t even get to his feet. He clutches at his chest and squeezes his eyes shut, vaguely aware that someone is with him, someone has a hand on his back, but he can’t spare any focus for them, throwing all his effort into just trying to get enough oxygen into his body. Breathing never used to be this hard, but… Oh, when he saw it, everything just came back. He can feel them on him, he can – 

He doubles over as a stab of pain shoots through his chest, and words finally reach him through the fog. “… get Hannibal. Or a doctor.”

“No!” he manages to gasp. If Hannibal saw him like this, saw the pitiful wreck his XO had been reduced to… No, that couldn’t be allowed to happen. And certainly no doctors, he just needed a minute, to get himself together, to focus, to stop feeling them all over his body - “Help me in… Please…”

The Someone helps him up and, still gasping for air, the light changes and he knows he is inside. For a moment the walls seem to close on him, and it’s too dark and he can’t cope. He stumbles away from whoever is holding him, tripping over something when another stab of pain shoots through his chest and down his arm. He lands on something soft and scrambles around for a moment until he is sitting with his back against something solid, knees drawn up to his chest and face buried in his folded arms, resting on top. Vaguely aware how ridiculous he must look, he feels a little safer, but he can still feel them on his skin, can feel them all over his chest…

“Face, listen to me, come on Facey, it’s okay…” The reassuring murmur gradually seeps through into his foggy mind, and he tries to focus on the words rather than the feeling that his heart is going to explode. Is this what a heart attack feels like? “… You gotta calm down, buddy, you have to relax, you’re safe…”

Safe? He can still feel them, but then he feels something else instead as strong hands take hold of his head and lift it up gently. He blinks open his eyes, manages to focus and finds himself looking into worried brown eyes under a red baseball cap. Murdock. It’s Murdock with him, and the knot in his chest relaxes a fraction. 

“Calm your breathing, buddy,” his friend urges, thumbs brushing gently over his cheeks. “You need to slow your breathing down, it’ll make you feel better, I promise.”

“Can’t,” he gasps. Tries to explain. “I can feel them, Murdock, I can’t…”

“Yes, you can. Breathe with me, Facey, come on.” And Murdock leans forward, resting his forehead against Face’s. This close, all he can see is his best friend’s familiar features, all he can feel is those callused hands caressing his face, and all he can hear is steady, exaggerated breathing. Everything else starts to fade away as he concentrates on those breathes, tries to slow his own to match them, gradually feeling his world solidify as it starts to work.

Of course, as he starts to return to himself, as his heart begins to beat a more regular tattoo, he feels ridiculous, embarrassed. What kind of a ranger is he, to be reduced to this state by something so – Oh god, even thinking about them makes his whole body shudder, and Murdock moves quickly to pull him forward, wrapping lean arms around his shaking body. Cradled against his best friend’s chest, he can hear a steady heartbeat beneath that Hawaiian shirt, and the comforting smell of engine oil, marshmallows and something uniquely Murdock calms his panic even more. He breathes deeply, relieved to find that he actually can breathe deeply once again.

“That’s better, buddy, see, I told ya. I got ya, Faceman. Just slow and steady for me.” Murdock has kept up a steady stream of reassurance the whole time, his soft voice settling Face’s heartbeat and breathing even more, and he nuzzles into his best friend’s chest, not caring anymore how weak this must make him look. It feels so good to be held like this, and Murdock just tightens his arms and keeps right on talking. “There, there. I’m here. You’re safe, Facey, all safe now.” 

“Murdock,” he breathes, suddenly aware that they are curled together on Hannibal’s bunk. He moves to sit up a little, and the pilot lets him, loosening his arms enough to let Face get more upright, though they are still tangled together. The contact helps ground him, and he feels incredibly grateful when Murdock starts to slowly rub circles across his back once more.

“You back with me, Face?” his friend asks gently. “You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

“Yeah, buddy. Thanks.” He brings one trembling hand up to scrub across his face and into his hair. Forces a laugh. “I’m okay, I don’t know what got into me. I’m fine.”

He knows Murdock won’t buy that, but the conman in him has to try. Sure enough, the pilot snorts a little in return. “Yeah right, you’re fine. And I know what that was, even if you don’t. You had a panic attack, buddy. It’s over now. You feeling okay?”

Breathing deeply again, Face takes a moment to assess himself. His vision has cleared, his heartbeat feels normal. He’s still a little shaky but Murdock’s steady caress is helping that more than he would ever have thought possible. “Better, not great,” he admits. “I saw it, by the fire, and I…”

“You could feel them on you, right, buddy? The rats?” Of course Murdock knows, of course he’d seen, and Face hangs his head in shame, tucking himself back into his friend’s lean chest.

___________________

Murdock just folds the shaking man back into his arms, squeezing him as tightly as he dares. He knows there are still some small bandages over the deeper bites, and tries his best not to put pressure on those points. But Face is clingy in a way he’s never seen before, muscular body practically in his lap, and the pilot gives in to the urge to press a gentle kiss into soft curls.

The Lieutenant had seemed pretty unaffected by his ordeal when the team had rescued him. Two hours spent locked in a tiny cell, pitch black and damp, not quite five foot square, arms tied behind his back and ankles shackled. Stripped to only his khaki pants, Face had been covered in bites when they had finally found him, from rats, mice, he really wasn’t sure. Thankfully none of the bites had become infected, though he’d been given lots of shots and the base medics were keeping a close eye on him, but apparently there had been some psychological damage none of them had foreseen.

As soon as Murdock spotted the rat by the fire, he knew that Face had seen it too. Knew that his friend wouldn’t want to show how much it bothered him, and now his heart aches as he starts to rock his friend ever so gently, trying to soothe his shaken mind. Face starts to murmur a little, nonsense words really, but he picks out the word “weak”, shakes his head. “No, Face, this doesn’t make you weak. I’ve been through this, you get through it.” He allows himself another kiss, just a touch of lips to forehead really, as his friend finally starts to stop shaking. “It gets better, baby.”

_____________________

How can this not make him weak? A ranger having panic attacks: if this gets out, they’ll never let him off base again. Hannibal will be disgusted, surely, with an XO who loses it when he sees a rat. But he wants to believe Murdock, he really does, that maybe it will really all be okay. It’s not like he had a lot of issues with rodents before this, and he knows they all have nightmares, Murdock more than any of them. And then it sinks into his tired brain – did his best friend just call him…?

“No one will judge you, Facey, not after what you went through.” The pilot is still talking, all the usual crazy gone now, rocking him gently, and the steady tone combined with the comforting feeling of being held so carefully starts to lull Face to sleep. He barely registers when Murdock presses another kiss to his forehead (another kiss? Had there been more?) and instead, he cuddles closer to the other man’s warmth. It’s so nice to be held like this, to be held by Murdock, to rest on someone else’s strength for once. For all that the pilot looks like a skinny teenager, Murdock is Ranger through and through, all lean muscle and power, and it feels so very good that Face lets himself sink down into that warm embrace. 

“You tired, Face? ‘Sokay, buddy, close your eyes,” Murdock whispers, and this time Face doesn’t fight the darkness at the edges of his vision, letting his eyes fall closed and his breathing start to deepen. 

Right on the edge of sleep, he hears his pilot speak one last time. “Sleep, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” And Face sleeps, a bubble of warmth and confusion forming deep in his chest. 

____________________

He thinks that things should be more awkward than this, the morning after his ‘episode’. But no, Murdock is back to being Murdock, as crazy as ever, and if the pilot hovers a little closer to him than normal Face certainly doesn’t mind. He tells himself that it’s probably just that his friend has to sit relatively still – Face had felt even more terrible when he finally woke up last night in Murdock’s arms, realising he had been practically sitting on his injured ankle. But Murdock hadn’t fussed, had let Face pull away and collect himself as they got ready for bed properly. 

However, his friend had kicked up a fuss when BA and Hannibal had eventually joined them, demanding that they leave a light on ‘because the moths will get lost if they don’t have a light to follow’, and Face had felt a surge of shame because hell yes he wanted the light left on, and because he really shouldn’t need the light left on. He had also felt ridiculously grateful to the other man when, with two different sets of snores already filling the tent, Murdock had crept into his bunk and wrapped those strong arms back around him, and he had slept more soundly than he had expected, focussing on the comforting touch rather than thinking about… them.

So they sit, talking, for most of the day. The whole team is on down time after all, and two of them are technically on medical stand down, although that doesn’t usually stop any of them from doing what the hell they want. Murdock is right by his side for most of the day, and Face catches a few concerned looks thrown his way from both Hannibal and BA, though neither of them will say anything. Bosco is more the strong, silent type, although Face knows he could talk to the big guy if he needed to. And after so many years working alongside each other, Hannibal knows when not to push his XO, although Face has no doubt that his colonel knows exactly what happened last night and is giving him the space to deal with it.

In the hot, bright sunshine of the Iraqi desert, he feels better about what happened last night. Not good, because a large part of his brain still thinks that he’s a Ranger, and Rangers shouldn’t have panic attacks when they see a rat. But Murdock’s words have sunk in, that no one will judge him badly after his experience in that dark cell, and he focuses on the fact that, as his friend pointed out, Murdock has been through more than his share of those moments of panic, and he always comes through it fine. 

But as night begins to fall, he feels his heart start to race again. As the shadows start to fall around their fire, he knows it’s stupid, he knows the rats in the camp won’t come for him, he knows it won’t be truly dark any time soon, but he still starts to panic. Until Murdock moves his chair even closer, slinging an arm around his shoulders and passing him another beer, and instead of focussing on phantom rat bites, all Face can feel is the solid weight of his friend’s arm. Tonight Murdock smells of apples – how and why, he can’t even begin to imagine – and if Face leans into that embrace and inhales as deeply as he can, he can try to convince himself it’s only so he doesn’t think about the rats.

He has deliberately tried not to think about how gentle Murdock was with him last night, the soft kisses and the whispered terms of endearment. He has also tried not to think about how his own body reacted to the pilot’s closeness, choosing to believe that it was purely the comfort on offer that he craved. But when they all retire to their tent that night – Hannibal leaves the light on without saying a word – Face finds himself hoping that Murdock will crawl into his bunk again, wanting to feel that lean, strong body pressed against his own. And when he finally does come, waiting again until the other two are sleeping, Face wraps his own arms around his friend in return and they sleep tangled together beneath the nightlight. 

The next night, when Murdock turns off that light before coming to Face’s bunk, the conman nearly has another panic attack. It’s too dark, and the walls start closing in on him again. In darkness, all he can feel is those tiny moving bodies, scrabbling feet all over his naked chest, over his face, unable to shake them off. All he can feel is sharp teeth sinking into his flesh, and he starts to hyperventilate again, heart racing, until a second later Murdock is right there, back with him, whispering calming words in his ear. “Dark isn’t scary, Facey, it’s okay, I’m here, I’ll keep you safe,” he hears, and the panic immediately falls away, to be replaced by a strange sense of disappointment. ‘Facey’, not ‘baby’ or ‘sweetheart’.

Two nights after that, Murdock doesn’t come to his bunk at all, and Face lies awake all night. He isn’t worried about the darkness, he doesn’t feel the rats or mice, he’s dealt with all of that. Mostly. It happened, it’s over, time to move on now. But he finds himself feeling abandoned, missing those strong arms around his body. He likes waking up with Murdock’s nose pressed into his neck, loves the way the pilot would whisper into his ear, loves the way his friend’s body seems to fit so perfectly against his, firm legs twined with his, flat stomach and so much more pressing against his backside. He’s never thought about Murdock like that before, he’s always just been Murdock, his best friend, his crazy yet brilliant pilot, but now… 

That day, Hannibal and BA both leave camp for separate reasons. The boss has to spend a few days schmoozing with the brass at a base a few hours north, while BA’s back has finally healed enough for him to fly back to the states to visit with his Mom for a couple of days over her birthday. Tactfully, none of them commented that the big guy was willing to fly for his Mama; even Murdock managed to bite his tongue for once, and Face is convinced that will change the weather. Before they left, Hannibal took him to one side and, with two strong hands on Face’s shoulders, asked him seriously if he was doing alright, if he wanted Hannibal to stay. Oddly choked at the gesture, Face had managed to assure his boss that he was really okay, and the colonel had stared at him intently for a full minute before nodding, and heading off. BA, in contrast, had pulled him into a quick man-hug before warning him not to let Murdock go too crazy without them around.

Tonight, Face decided. Tonight he would talk to Murdock. He needs to be with the pilot, he needs to know what Murdock feels for him. He hates feeling this distance from his friend, although they have barely been two steps apart for days. He knows now what he wants, and he suspects, he hopes, that his friend wants it too.

_________________

“Murdock? Can we talk, buddy?”

There’s a note of uncertainty in Face’s voice, and Murdock’s head snaps up from where he sits, cross-legged on his bunk, knitting needles in one hand and a cake tin in the other. He had thought Face was doing so much better these last few days, had tried to put some distance back between the two of them. Had tried to pull himself back into the ‘friendship zone’ after those nights spent sleeping wrapped in the security of the conman’s arms. “Sure, Facey. You doing okay? Did you see a rat out there?”

“No, no. It’s not that.” Face shakes his head, dishevelled curls bouncing around as he walks into their tent, hovering between the bunks. He looks a little pale again, and Murdock watches closely to see if he is having trouble breathing. He thought he had got his best friend through the panic attacks; he had slept in his bunk, offering the feel of something other than rats on his friend’s torn skin. He had kept the light on, suspecting that darkness would be as much of an issue as the crawling creatures, then he had turned the light off again, reassuring Face that darkness was safe. He had reluctantly returned to his own bed, feeling his friend growing more clingy as the nights went on rather than less. But seeing Face now, he worried he had acted too quickly, as the other man continues. “It’s not that at all, Murdock, I need to – “

“You’re still thinking about it, though, right?” Face fixes him with a look, that unreadable look he uses when he doesn’t really want you to see what he is feeling. “I know you are buddy, but that’s only natural. Talk to me, we never really talked about it all.”

Face has had nightmares the last two nights, and Murdock almost crawled right back into his bunk, choosing instead to soothe him with a gentle hand on the arm, or a soft sweep on his hand through those curls. It worked a treat each time, and the pilot honestly doubts his friend is even aware of his bad dreams. Last night, Murdock had woken at Face’s soft cries of distress only to find Hannibal already at the lieutenant’s side, and had to push down his feelings of jealousy, seeing their colonel in his place.

But now he’s confused when Face shakes his head again. “No, man, you’re not listening. That’s all okay, I’ve dealt with it.” He pauses. “At least, I’m dealing with it. Shit happens, buddy, we deal with it, right? It was just one of those things, and I feel so stupid for being so weak that – “

“Don’t you do that,” he interrupts, fiercely. “Don’t you say that. You aren’t weak. We all got problems, hell, look at me! The amount of times you’ve had to calm me down, to talk me down from my own panic attacks, to haul me in off a ledge… All those times, did you think I was weak?”

The other man is towering above him now, close against the edge of his bunk, blue eyes burning brightly in that pale face. “Never, Murdock,” he murmurs, and the intensity in that voice takes the pilot by surprise, stuns him into silence. Something hovers in the air between them, and then Face breaks the moment, leaning down and pressing his lips to Murdock’s.

For a moment, he feels nothing but elation. Face is kissing him! His best friend, the man he has secretly fantasised about since he set fire to the other man’s shirt in a dirty Mexican hospital, this wonderful man is kissing him. For a minute, all he can do is kiss back as the conman expertly deepens the kiss, running his hands up into Murdock’s hair. But all too soon, reality comes crashing in on him, when for once he wishes it would stay far, far away. 

Pulling away, he scrambles backwards across his bunk, falling to the floor with a heavy thump, leaving Face standing there, bewildered. “No, no, no, no. Don’t do that, Facey, don’t…”

“Murdock…”

“No, please. If this is your way of saying ‘thank you’, just ‘cos I held you a few times, you don’t have to do this, you don’t need to – “

“I heard what you said.” For a moment, he wonders what Face is talking about. But then he remembers, winces… “You called me sweetheart. You called me baby. And you kissed me first. So don’t tell me you don’t want me, Murdock.” Desperation in his friend’s voice now, and Murdock tries to steel himself.

“I didn’t… I didn’t think you could hear me,” he whispers, hanging his head. “Please don’t do this, Facey. This works, you and me. I know you too well, I know you like to be with someone all the time, I know you like contact, comfort. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you always have to be with a girl, and you haven’t been for a while – “

Face looks a little hurt. “Not always a girl, buddy. Guys, too. And this isn’t like that.”

For a minute his brain superheats with the thought of Face with a man. Face with him. But then he remembers, this is Face. “No, no, no. No, I’d just be comfort for you. And I don’t think I can do that. I need more, Facey, you can’t give me that, so we can’t… I can’t… I have to – “ And then he’s up, on his feet, moving as quickly as he can out of the tent, away from the man he wants. He can’t let himself get hurt like that, so he all but runs out into the darkness. Away.

________________

Face stands stunned, alone in the tent. Does Murdock really think that, that he just wants comfort? That all he is looking for is a warm body in his bed? Another girl, or another guy – and he had seen the pilot’s eyes go black when he mentioned he had been with men – just some physical contact in the middle of their frantic army life? 

Yes, he has a reputation, but Murdock more than anyone else on the team should know that reputations aren’t always accurate, that rumours can be spread and changed, opinions altered, and Face isn’t nearly as much of a sexual predator as his self-styled reputation says he is. For several minutes, all he can do is stand there, the pilot’s words echoing in his head. ‘I’d just be comfort for you’, and ‘I need more’. Well, he can show the other man how much more he really feels, things he never realised he did feel until these last, difficult days.

Striding purposefully out of the tent, into the darkness of the camp, he knows Murdock won’t have run far. Winding his way between the tents he quickly makes his way back to the area his team have commandeered, BA’s motorbike in its place, their grilling area, their now-extinguished campfire. Sure enough, in one of the ratty old canvas chairs Face ‘borrowed’ from Black Forest, he can see the pilot’s shaggy head silhouetted in the dim light.

Not bothering to announce himself – Murdock will have heard him coming long ago – he starts speaking softly even as he picks up a chair, moving to sit in front of this man he wants so very much. “Yes, a part of my attraction to you is comfort; I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t. I’m more comfortable with you than I am around anyone else, and I think you know how big a deal that is for me. I also think you feel the same.” In front of Murdock now, he can see the pilot is working his baseball cap in his hands, playing with the brim in his long, strong fingers. There is a slight nod, encouraging him to continue. “I never thought about how good I would feel in your arms. I never thought that you… went that way, so I didn’t think about it.” 

He pauses for a minute, not wanting to sound like a gushing teenager but needing to find the right words, needing this to sound like more than the flowing words of the con artist they both know he is. But Murdock jumps into the silence, clearly needing to speak as well. “I thought about it. For years, Face. But I would’ve never… I meant what I said, I can’t just be a comfort blanket for you. If you want this, want me… It has to be more than that, for me. My fragile heart and mind couldn’t take it if you moved on again.” More serious than Face has ever heard him, all the accents and characters gone, this is just Murdock talking from the heart, and the lieutenant feels his own heart pound with the realisation that this could really work, they can really have something amazing.

Choosing his next words carefully, he leans closer, hands near to that still-moving baseball cap but not daring to touch yet. “I don’t think you’re as fragile as you say. I’ve always thought you are one of the strongest people I know, mentally as well as physically – “

“Hardly!” And Murdock laughs out loud, leaning back in his chair for a second, the cap falling forgotten to the floor between them. Face can’t help but smile as well, and the simmering tension is broken. 

Feeling bolder now, he reaches slowly out to take the pilot’s hands in his own. Sitting like this, face to face and hand in hand, this feels more intimate than all those nights they spooned together in his bunk. “Seriously, man. All that shit you go through, everything you have to deal with, yet you are still one of the smartest, cleverest, funniest… Everything you go through and you still had the strength to help me. And that’s just one of the things about you that I love.”

The word hangs in the air between them, and for a second Face feels like he will have another panic attack. God, he shouldn’t have said that, it’s too soon, too much, and he starts to pull back. But Murdock tightens his grip on his hands, tugging ever so gently, and Face let himself be pulled closer, through the darkness and shadows until their lips meet again. This time, the other man controls the kiss, and Face loses himself in soft lips and gently lapping tongues. They taste each other properly for the first time, sharing each other’s breath until oxygen becomes an issue and Murdock pulls back an inch, keeping their foreheads touching, gasping softly. “Really, Temp?” he asks. “Me?”

Face feels that rare use of his first name go straight to his groin, and groans gently. “Really, James. You.” Starts to lean back in to steal another kiss, but Murdock suddenly squeals, pulling back from him completely. “What - ?”

“We’re in the middle of an army base!”

Oh, yeah, Face hadn’t entirely forgotten that fact but it hadn’t seemed important for a while now, blood rushing south from his brain. Still, maybe his man has a point – the empty darkness of a military base isn’t exactly the best setting for the start of something wonderful, and he stands reluctantly, tugging with one hand to bring the other man with him. “Inside, now,” he growls, and feels Murdock’s shudder of anticipation when the pilot presses fully against his back. A nip at his earlobe nearly has him falling over his own feet as they move rapidly through the dark, quiet camp and into the safer darkness of their tent.

_________________

Murdock can’t quite believe this is finally happening, kissing his man again and again as he pushes Face down flat onto the bunk and climbs on to straddle him, keeping their lips locked. He runs his fingers again and again through soft curls, revelling in the feeling as Face brings his own hands up to squeeze his ass firmly, that muscular body arching on the narrow bunk. He doesn’t know whose bunk it is, nor does he particularly care, until Face squirms awkwardly beneath him, breaking the kiss as he mumbles, “What the hell?” One hand leaves his backside and Face reaches underneath himself, eventually pulling out one of Murdock’s knitting needles. “Do I wanna know?”

“Probably not,” he giggles, and the desperate, panicked rush of the moment eases. Beneath him, Face seems to relax too, smiling that bright white smile of his as he slips both hands underneath Murdock’s shirt, coaxing the pilot to lift his arms. They carefully undress each other, taking the time to run hands over muscles and hollows seen but never savoured before. Face is as responsive as he knew he would be, shuddering deliciously when Murdock strokes calloused fingers up the smooth skin of his side, and whimpering softly as his earlobe is suckled gently. Stopping his explorations for a moment, trying to ignore the growing throb from his neglected cock, hard and waiting, Murdock leans down to whisper in his lover’s ear. “How do you want me, baby?”

___________________

This feels so very right, like they fit together perfectly, two halves of the same whole. His body reacts instinctively to the feeling of that lean body resting over his, arching up closer, groins so close yet not quite touching, sending sparks shooting through his blood. He somehow knows that Murdock needs to take charge of this, to know that it really isn’t just about comfort for Face, and the taller man is more than happy to just feel, to kiss and explore as much as Murdock will let him, then that whispered question makes his brain short-circuit. As his man licks a stripe up his stubbled jaw, he manages to gasp, “Any… Any way, Murdock, just want you – Oh!” 

A sharp bite to his neck, and for a moment he is back in darkness, tiny bodies crawling on his. But a soothing tongue sweeps across the area, feather-light fingers teasing across his chest, and in this darkness he knows he is safe. Murdock seems to know what he is thinking, murmuring, “I’ll keep you safe, sweetheart, I promise. If you keep me safe.”

“Always,” he manages to reply, as his lover kisses his way lower, lower down his chest, lips teasing the hair at his groin before that incredible touch is suddenly gone. “James?”

Noises in the darkness, movement, and then it takes everything he has to muffle his cry as one slick finger suddenly circles his entrance – where did Murdock manage to find slick? – before pushing straight in. “Easy, darlin’. You aren’t the only one with talented fingers.” That wonderful digit rests still for a moment, letting him adjust, before slowly sliding in, out, in… “You’ll let me?”

_______________

Lying there in the aftermath, tangled together in the cocoon of blankets they made on the floor of the tent when the bunk began to creak ominously beneath them, all Murdock can think is that all his birthdays have come at once. It was all everything he could ever have wished for, from the moment Face nodded and Murdock really went to work, prepping that incredible body as carefully as he could before pressing himself home. Face had flexed and bent beautifully under his thrusts, long legs wrapping around his back, arms locking around his neck, strangely silent apart from soft gasps. When his lover had finally shaken apart, spilling wetly between their stomachs, the rippling sensations surrounding his cock had pulled Murdock right over the edge with him, and he had collapsed onto Face’s heaving chest as they both came back down to earth.

Next to him, Face stirs a little in his sleep, tightening his arms where they are locked around the pilot’s chest. Murdock smiles, pressing a soft kiss to his lover’s neck, over the bite mark he has left there. After they had both caught their breath, kissing leisurely, Face had reminded him of his earlier comment, that he had said ‘I need more, you can’t give me that.’ Seems his conman had decided to take that as a challenge, and in darkness he had flipped their positions, showing Murdock exactly how much more he could give. That had been when the floor became a better option. 

Murdock had seen stars again, finding himself not quite capable of keeping as silent as Face had, his lover having to roughly gag him when he came, hard, for the second time that night. Then exhausted, they had both nodded off, wrapped in each other’s arms. But Murdock hadn’t slept long, having dreamt about this moment for so long, and now he lies, in darkness, just soaking up every minute he can. 

A tiny part of him still can’t quite believe Face wants him for real, that this wasn’t a one-time thing for the other man, but he trusts Face, loves Face, and he can’t wait to see where this thing between them goes in the light of day. For now, in darkness, he just smiles contentedly and soon he is asleep once more, safe in the arms of the man he never thought he would have.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first ever attempt at F/M! Originally written for a prompt at ATeam-Prompts:
> 
> Lots of people have written Face comforting Murdock when he has a panic attack/episode whatever you want to call it. So let's have the opposite-
> 
> Face has a panic attack or some PTSD issues, and won't go to the doctor because he doesn't want Hannibal or the Army to know, depending on when you set it. So Murdock helps him calm down, and Face is surprised by how good it feels to have Murdock comfort him.
> 
> Later, to let Murdock know how much he appreciated it, he initiates sex with the pilot. For some added angst/feelings, Murdock thinks Face is just being Face so Face has to tell him how he really feels about his friend.


End file.
